ok, i don’t want to name this property so as to protect it’s anonymity. but suffice it to say it’s just about the coolest most fascinating home in all of l.a. and, well, possibly the world.
i mean, in addition to it being an amazing house it also contains a gigantic theater from 1930 in the backyard. and a stream. there’s a stream in hollywood? yes, apparently there’s a stream in hollywood. who knew? i didn’t, clearly.
i love this place. and it’s magic theater and stream and giant plants. i hope the pictures somehow indicate just how amazing this home/place/wormhole/brigadoon/property is. and yes, there’s a skeleton hanging in the trees. and yes, there’s a bunny in a skull mask and fez.
p.s-find the wizard.
p.p.s-yes, this is a blog about architecture. well, broadly speaking.
hi from mexico.
and, i’m ashamed to admit, today’s architecture update was taken super quickly from my hotel room, as my schedule in mexico city is really busy and i unfortunately don’t have time to go out and take pictures of the great buildings in mexico city. mea culpa, i’m sorry.
but i’m standing here in my hotel room looking at the back of the this building and from here it looks pretty amazing. this big, beautiful art deco fortress.
i’m assuming ‘imss’ has something to do with social security? if so, then i’m positing that this is probably the most beautiful art deco social security fortress on the planet. i could be wrong. i’m often wrong. but i stand by my posit.
also i took this picture in the rain, as it’s raining. or was. now it stopped. so the streaks in the pictures are not some fancy photoshop rain plug-in effect. they’re just rain. old timey rain.
i wish i had time to go and take a picture of the front of this amazing art deco fortress, but as i mentioned before: busy, busy, busy. i like busy, it saves me from having to spend time with my thoughts of mortality and the human condition. art deco fortresses are way more entertaining than thoughts of mortality and the human condition.
a part of me wishes that this building were some big, top-secret center for alien communication. like the ‘international mexican space studies’ building. but i’m sure that social security is nice, too.
maybe not as nice as aliens, but few things are.
ok, back to work.
ok, i confess that i generally tend to take pictures of: old houses and weird houses and houses that are kind of falling down and houses that are succumbing to entropy.
today’s house is neither old nor weird nor falling down nor succumbing to entropy. i see it almost every day, as it’s in my neighborhood, and even though i see it every day it invariably strikes me in that it’s a fairly rare example of good, new, tasteful, and relatively site sensitive architecture.
it was designed by francois perrin, who is a french architect living and working in l.a.
personally, and subjectively, i love how it’s restrained and sculptural, and how it subtly references a lot of iconic l.a mid-century case study houses.
it’s also a really deft example of employing materials that might not always be thought of as cohabitating benignly (like cement and wood) in a very challenging location (a hill-side with an 80 degree slope). and no, i’m not being paid to write advertorial for this house, i just think it’s really tasteful and great, and stands in stark contrast to the thousands of beige crap-shacks being erected by rapacious developers.
thanks, and have a nice weekend.
i love this little modern moderne art deco tiny ocean liner with gun slots building.
it does look like a 1930’s version of an albert speer spaceship ocean liner, ready to fly to the moon and battle moon people (thus: the things on the roof that look like gun slots). and am i using the vaguely right nomenclature? is this a moderne building? i always feel kind of uncomfortable writing ‘moderne’, as it sounds made up and wrong. but maybe it’s valid architectural nomenclature?
oh, i also just realized that this might actually be a well known building as designed by a well known architect. and, once again, i’m confronted with my gaping ignorance as regards well known buildings as designed by well known architects.
well, regardless of it’s history or nomenclature or patrimony it’s a beautiful little jewel box of a tiny ocean liner building.
ok, a rarely seen example of a rare architectural genre that might only exist here in glamorous dystopian l.a… mid century gothic.
see, when we think of scary gothic houses we tend to think of scary old victorian houses. crumbly and falling down with overgrown lawns and tattered curtains and scary old people potentially living inside and only oming out with rotten old shovels to bury dead cats in the backyard. whereas modern houses tend to be clean and pristine and filled with light and in no way scary or creepy.
but here we have: a scary and crumbly and falling down mid century modern house.
and, to be clear, what was probably once a really beautiful mid century modern house, with some great lines and amazing little details (like a tree growing through the roof by the entranceway). but now entropy has gripped this beautiful little mid century in it’s maw and is turning it into a scary gothic house that the kids avoid when they go out collecting unicef pennies at halloween.
and yes, it looks like it’s about to be renovated. and the entropy will be scraped off and once again there will be a shiny fancy beautiful million dollar mid century perched on a hill overlooking a canyon. or perhaps this is a superfancy art project that is too sophisticated for mere mortals, like me, to understand.
'by perfectly recreating the effects of entropic degression we turn this bourgeoisie edifice into a landmark of de-gentrified situationist impermanence.'
sort of thing.
well, whether it’s natural entropy or fancy set dressed entropy it’s still a cool mid century gothic house with tattered curtains and raccoon ghosts floating from mid century room to room.
now i’m going to put on my low-rent grad student hat for a second. or a minute. or for however long it takes me to write about semiotics and from a low-rent grad student perspective. (oh, to be clear: ‘low rent’ meaning the quality of my writing, not the value of this real estate. i’m guessing this real estate is fairly pricey, as it’s in west hollywood).
when i was at uconn and suny purchase i really, really wanted to go brown and study semiotics. why?
- i love semiotics (before they stopped calling it semiotics…sniff).
- brown was fancy but progressive.
- my girlfriend at the time went to brown and lived on thayer st.
- i couldn’t afford brown.
- i probably wasn’t smart enough to go to brown.
- they stopped offering semiotics as a major.
so i was left as a lowly philosophy major at one of two state schools (both of which were great, go team(s)).
now i’ll be pedantic for a second, ok?
you might ask (or not), ‘what is/are semiotics?’ well, and in a very simple and grossly reductionist way, semiotics is/are the study of signs and symbols and the way in which we process them and give them meaning and respond to them.
most of what we experience is fairly neutral. a flag is really just some dyed fabric stitched together. but it can compel people to fits of rage or joy or loyalty or despair. but it’s just fabric. semiotics is, broadly speaking and applied to just about everything that triggers a reaction in us, the study of why people have emotional and intellectual reactions and responses to something like a flag, which is really just some colorful fabric.
but i don’t want to go on and on about semiotics (although if you corner me at a party i will talk to you for days about semiotics and they way in which all of our lives are spent (tyrannized, even) having ostensibly hard-wired reactions to things that are not in any way comprised of any inherent meaning).
but: this blog update.
here’s a house. or an almost house. which led me to ask some questions:
- is it being built or deconstructed?
- what utility does it have in it’s extant form?
- when we look at it are we seeing it for what it is or what it represents in terms of potential?
- how do we overlook what it actually is (a bunch of wood, cobbled together) and only see what it represents (a potentially finished house)?
- what amazing cognition is involved in extrapolating from a bunch of wood into a finished house?
- does it have aesthetic merit in it’s extant form, and if so what?
- see ‘7’.
it’s an interesting challenge, i think, to see this construction for what it is, divorced of any potential infused future utility.
it’s wood. kind of sculptural. defining a space, but without creating a space in a traditional, architectural way. it has no roof, it would be pretty crummy at keeping out bugs and wind. it wouldn’t be great at giving anyone a place to shower or sleep. but it’s still remarkable in and of itself. and can we judge a structure for what it is and not for what it represents and what it triggers in us?
someone might look at this and see a waste of resources. someone might look at it and see egregious socioeconomic inequality.
someone might look at it and see a place to eventually make popcorn and watch ‘30 rock’. or someone might look at it and see some odd post-modern sculptural land-art commentary on our predatory patriarchal rigid society. or none of the above.
ultimately, though, it’s wood. and some concrete. and some nails. but that’s not what i see, or, i assume, what any of us see.
and it’s fascinating that we see what isn’t so much more clearly and easily than what actually is. we see what’s represented far more than what’s actually in front of us.
and yes, that’s semiotics, at least from my perspective. and it can be applied to almost all of our conditioned emotional reactions. so says the college dropout blogger musician who really has no qualifications to be writing about architecture and/or semiotics. except that i like both.
i guess i have a presumptuous request/challenge: try to look at things (like this structure) for what they actually are. and when we
extrapolate and see things for what they represent (flags, republicans, saxophones, houses, globes, etc) it’s potentially interesting
to just become aware of the fact that we’re having a reaction to our own perception, not necessarily to the thing we’re observing or interacting with.
i just got back from detroit, where i was playing at the movement festival (which was as festivals go, i say with some objectivity, amazing).
i’ve been going to detroit since the late 80’s (as it is the birthplace of modern electronic music), and i’ve always loved it.
culturally and musically and artistically it’s a fascinating place, but it’s also fascinating in that it has more remarkable abandoned buildings than any other city in the western world (this might sound like hyperbole, but i’m guessing it’s actually true).
it’s worth stating that there are big parts of detroit that are not filled with abandoned buildings. and those are nice, too… but the parts of downtown detroit that are filled with beautiful old abandoned buildings are aesthetically amazing (as evidenced by the fact that lots and lots of people have taken pictures of them).
on saturday i had the afternoon off, so my friend shannon (who lives in a former abandoned building) took me on a bike ride around detroit to look at her favorite abandoned buildings (what she refers to as ‘ruin porn’).
here are some of my favorites.
and i hope that these buildings at some point get the love and care that they deserve. but in the meantime: ruin porn.
ok, first off: congratulations to eric garcetti and all of the people who worked on his campaign.
it was an odd mayoral election (i say as a new angeleno), as it involved: 2 smart and progressive democrats who were very good friends before running against each other.
normally an election is a campaign between polar opposites, like obama v. romney. this election was a campaign between two friends who, for the most part, agreed on most of the issues.
and moving on to buildings. or a building.
i drive by this perfect little mid-century house almost every day, and i’m always struck by:
- how nice it is (yes, completely subjective criteria. i mean, ‘nice’? that’s the best i can do? apparently: yes).
- how lofty (literally) it is, as it’s built up above the street so as to have great views of everything.
- how there are so many reasonably compelling mid-century houses in l.a that it’s possible to drive by one every day and barely recognize how nice it is.
as per usual: i know nothing about this house other than that it’s in my neighborhood and it’s really nice and it probably has amazing views. and that l.a is an endlessly byzantine laboratory for modernism, in all of it’s good and bad and other forms. i would consider this house to be modernism in it’s good form(s).
maybe i’ll go out tomorrow and find some less benign examples of contemporary architecture in l.a.
and again, happy new mayor day.
one of the reasons i moved to los angeles is because i wanted to spend more time looking around the gigantic west. because, to state the obvious, the west coast of the u.s is very different from the east coast.
i grew up on the east coast, and the east coast is great, but it’s generally fairly small and cute and subtle. then you go out west and everything is gigantic and un-subtle. the east coast has cute colonial towns. the west coast has bizarre sprawling megalopolises. the east coast has hills. the west coast has giant mountains. and when i moved to l.a i vowed to explore the weird and beautiful and baffling areas around l.a. and top of my list (well, near the top of my list), was mt baldy.
like many people i first heard about mt baldy when leonard cohen moved there, to live at a zen monastery near the top of mt baldy. i assumed that mt baldy was some remote and mythical place, far, far away from los angeles. but, as is often the case, i was wrong. mt baldy is an hour away from l.a.
so today i drove up to mt baldy with some friends. we drank coffee at the mt baldy lodge. we had sandwiches in one of the 18,000 state park hiking/camping areas. and i took pictures of this little stone house.
i took pictures of this house because it’s perfect. it might not be architecturally significant, but it fits into it’s landscape about as perfectly as a house can ever fit into a landscape. and even though its an hour away from los angeles in 2013 it feels as if it’s fallen through a time portal (as does, fantastically, most of mt baldy) from 1935.
it doesn’t employ new or cutting edge building materials or building techniques. it wasn’t inspired by marcel breuer. but it’s amazing and perfect in it’s own way.
so, here’s a little stone house surrounded by trees in the middle of mt baldy.
here’s random. or, rather, a random day in dysfunctional l.a.
3 different houses/things.
1-pickfair. i guess that pickfair deserves it’s own update, as it’s a pretty remarkable, monstrous, huge, strangely beautiful, ostentatious, emblematic, storied, oddball house. but, i’ll be honest, i felt kind of creepy and exposed taking pictures of this house as beverly hills residents drove by giving me baleful and withering looks. so i took a couple of pictures and tucked my figurative tail between my figurative legs and escaped the intimidating stares of the scornful beverly hills residents who were scorning me. or so i thought.
maybe they were just looking. scornfully. in any case: i felt like a creepy interloper. which, in fact, i might be. then i took a picture of a:
2- modern house across the street that looked kind of cool. i received fewer nasty looks while doing this. then i found myself in highland park where i took pictures of:
3-these amazing metal dragonflies that make no sense to me but are huge and strange and great.
and i maintain that they’d look really good mounted on the top of pickfair, using their disco ball eyes to stare at the beverly hills residents who were staring at me.
and, an aside, doesn’t ‘pickfair’ kind of sound like the name of a suburban supermarket?
in any case: gigantic pickfair, cute little mid century house across the street from pickfair, and some gigantic metal dragonflies in highland park.